


Piercing

by Elektra Pendragon (elekdragon)



Series: Mac/Renny [5]
Category: Dark Visions - L. J. Smith
Genre: M/M, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-02
Updated: 2006-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-16 00:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elekdragon/pseuds/Elektra%20Pendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renny, Mac and the Psychic Psychos go out on the town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piercing

**Author's Note:**

> They've been using the crystal for a couple weeks at this point, and everyone's getting a bit crazy. Contains descriptions of piercings and alcohol use by minors.

Sasha had driven them all into town, after Joyce had finally gone to sleep. Frost and Sabrina giggled in the back seat over some stupid joke King was telling as John and Renny shared a seat in the front. John's sharp, bony elbow kept digging into Renny's side with every lurch of the old stick shift, every squealing two-wheeled corner Sasha made. By the time they found a parking space downtown somewhere, Renny was sure there'd be a fist-sized bruise against his ribs.

As they all piled out of the car, Renny crossed his arms over his chest and pressed, lightly, against the bruise until he could feel the ache start again.

It was King who bought the beer; he was the only one with a license that said he was legal. Renny had no idea if it was fake or real; he didn't even know if "Parte King" was some sort of weird nickname or something that he'd seriously been stuck with at birth. He'd taken the can, cool and slick against his palm, because John shoved it against his fist until he'd slowly uncurled his fingers and just let him put it in his hand. The taste wasn't what he'd expected, and all he really felt was the need to belch after a few long, gasping swallows.

Renny felt like his head was getting bigger, and the sensation wasn't quite pleasant, but everyone else was laughing and choking down the cold liquid, so he smiled and pretended to like it. Beer wasn't as good as the Crystal. Not even close. Renny pressed harder on the bruise and tried to drink quickly, just to have it over with.

They wandered, seemingly lost with what to do during their one illicit night out. They stuck to the shadows and the less-busy streets, laughing and weaving and drinking and hiding the beers when a cop drove by. When they passed a window filled with artwork, Frost gasped. "Oh, wow, I have the best idea! We should all get tattoos! That's what people do when they get drunk!"

Her voice was louder than Renny could remember it being. He thought girls took off their tops when they got drunk, not yell. A headache nuzzled the base of his skull, and he took another sip, hoping she'd shut up.

"Hey, that's a good idea," Sasha slurred next to her, taking the opportunity to slide a little closer. "You could get one right on your little..." His hand slid down her back to squeeze her butt. She gave an indignant squeal, then a giggle. Sasha rested his hand at the base of her spine. "Right here, where anyone can see it above your tan line."

"I don't have a tan line."

Sasha lost his train of thought. King took the opportunity to lift his sleeve and show off some of the work he'd had done at some point. The blue lines were scraggly and faded, like worn-in jeans, and the image was completely indecipherable; just a blot of colour against his skinny arm. Frost was impressed.

Sasha whistled and patted King. "Hey, man, I'm up for it." Not to be outdone, he lifted his sleeve enough to show off one bulging bicep.

John growled something, but no one paid attention to him. His eyes glittered in the darkness as he watched the others laughing, drinking. Renny noticed that he didn't have a beer in his hand.

They all piled in the door, laughing and knocking into each other as the fought for space in the tight waiting area. Sasha swore up and down that he knew the guy who owned the place. When a large man stepped through the curtain, Sasha was right there, holding out his hand for a hearty handshake. The large man grinned with perfect teeth, but frowned when he caught sight of Renny and Sabrina. Renny folded into his jacket, trying to pretend he didn't look like he was still in high school. Sabrina just laughed, punching King in the arm right over the t-shirt covered tattoo.

"Hey, man, they're just little kids." He waved his hand a bit as he tried to come up with the words. "My, uh, brother and sister. They wanted to watch their big bro get a tat!" He turned to wink at them as he directed the guy away from the group for a "private talk."

A little too late, Renny remembered the can in his hand but didn't bother to hide it. If they hadn't been kicked out by now, it wouldn't matter much. Sasha talked to the large guy in low tones, gesturing behind him as Frost, Sabrina and King all snickered at each other for no good reason. John lounged the in corner, watching the light foot traffic pass in front of the artwork-covered windows, his face dark and impassive beneath a curtain of shadowy hair.

King's license might have been real, but nothing Sasha had said he could get a tattoo when he was more than a little drunk. Sasha actually swayed wobbly as he walked back to their group, his face drawn down in a frown that did nothing to mar his pretty face. "Sorry babe. The party-pooper has pooped this party." Frost cooed accordingly, running her long fingers over his shoulder in consolation.

"What about piercings?" King asked, more than a little challengingly. He looked for all the world that he wasn't about to leave until someone had something done to them in the shop. Renny couldn't bring himself to care as he finished the can and tossed it in the trash by the door. He pressed his fingers into the bruise in his side and willed the headache to go away.

Apparently the large man was not opposed to piercing underaged drinkers. "Who's first?"

Frost waved her fingers and made noises. Sabrina just scowled and punched King again. Sasha grabbed his crotch and made rude jokes about holes in his dick. They roared with laugher.

"Me." John's quiet voice from the back of the room made the laughter stop. John didn't talk much. Renny had noticed that he used to not talk at all, if he could avoid it, but lately he'd been getting a little more talkative when the mood hit him. Sometimes Renny would go to sleep with that low, growling, dangerous voice sliding across the darkness between their beds, the words not quite making sense in that before-sleep haze. Or maybe they didn't make sense period, and Renny had never noticed before.

John stalked the large man, pushing his way through the tight crowd of psychics around him as his hips slid around long stretching strides. Renny could almost imagine a jungle growl in the air as he passed. He was shorter, smaller, than the large man, but the shop owner actually stepped back when John came close. He looked uneasy, but he waved John into the back of the shop.

"All right, Jackal-Man!" Sasha hooted, cheering him on.

"Jackal-Man! Jackal-Mac! Jack-Mac!" Sabrina chanted sing-song, to the delight of everyone. John glared behind him, but not even thought could shut her up while drunk. Renny left them behind as he followed John and the shop owner behind a weak curtain of beads.

"Where do you want it?" the man asked, seeming pretty bored with the whole process.

"Tongue."

John stretched out beneath the large man, oversized feet hanging off the edge of the padded foot rail as long fingered hands curled around the arm rests. The shop owner set out tools he removed from plastic bags, laying them on a tray similar to one you'd find in a dentist's office. He snapped on gloves, then leaned over John, his bulk momentarily eclipsing his body. Renny moved to get a better view, ignoring the other man as he prepared his instruments and selected a bolt. It was so strange to watch, so... stimulating. Renny didn't find the piercing artist the least bit attractive--the large man was fit and muscular, but nothing like the long, lean smoothness of John--but he found his heart beating fast, his pants getting tight across his crotch.

The expression on John's face didn't change, not even as he stuck out his tongue. Anyone else, it would have been comical, but with John it was just thick and pink-red like over-chewed bubble gum. Steel clamped down around his tongue, flattening it, pulling it out.

Renny was impossibly hard in his jeans, watching as this large man, so huge compared to John's sparseness, leaned over him, piercing the thick flesh of his tongue. John didn't even wince as the metal tore through. His eyes were distant, his breathing deep. And yet, there was nothing vulnerable about the position. John was ALLOWING this man to cut him, to tear open sweet, hidden flesh and sew metal into his skin. And Renny was allowed to watch it. He didn't know what excited him more--seeing John pierced, or imagining himself in that place, held down, crowded, forced to be still as his flesh was invaded, torn apart. Pierced.

It was then that Renny knew he was well and truly drunk. He watched John's tongue writhe around the metal bolt once the clamp was removed. Renny shuddered, and was glad he barely restrained himself from coming in his pants. Through sheer will alone did he follow behind John, his dignity somewhat left intact as he hunched over in his coat.

The rest was over quickly, and they were back out on the street, weaving and punching and drinking from the new six pack Sasha had picked up from somewhere while John was being pierced. Renny belched and drank the second beer that John pushed into his hand, not minding the taste so much as he drank quickly, reveling in the rush of dizzy carelessness that grew as he drank and drank, fighting the need to breathe. His heart was nearly bursting in his ears when he gasped for air, dropping the mostly empty can on the ground.

John must have accidentally kicked the can into the back of Renny's knee, startling him and sending his already compromised balance off center and into the sidewalk. Gritty cement clawed Renny at palm and wrist, knee and ankle. The others had already moved on, not noticing that Renny had fallen, not caring as their revelry echoed into the night, shouts and howls and ecstatic giggles that grew higher and higher and higher.

The pain surged through his blood, scorching him like the alcohol should have. This was what he imagined it should have been--dizzying and exciting, breathless, bleeding, burning, screaming through his body. He picked up his hands, watching the dark liquid spread across his skin, crazy-orange in the chemical streetlight. He could feel the odd wetness as he shifted his weight on his knees, grinding newly bared skin against the small pebbles and sharp rocks. He felt somewhat lost in a familiar dream-like place as he watched the darkness spread, glittering, down his wrist.

John's boots stepping into his vision reminded Renny that his ride back home was slowly moving down the street, leaving him behind as he stared at his wounds like a blind man suddenly given vision. He curled his fingers towards his palms, feeling the rough bumps where gravel dug into his flesh, unnaturally smooth against torn open skin. John's long fingers slipped beneath his arms, curling over his ribcage as he hoisted Renny to his feet.

Renny stared up at John, watching those dark, fathomless eyes glitter red-orange, like they were dipped in blood. He could almost imagine what it must feel like to have that new piercing, the swelling in his mouth taking up all the room as tissues reacted to injury. John swayed in the darkness. His hands slid down Renny's sides, counting the ridges of bone before coming down to take Renny's hands in his own. It was an almost romantic gesture, until Renny's fingers uncurled and John dug his short nails into jagged wounds, tracing them down his palms to his wrist, where bruises were just starting to form.

"You like this," John said, unwavering in his conviction as he tore open the tiny wounds, squeezed around the bruised bones. His voice was deep, deeper than it usually was, and slow. Renny could imagine the pain every word must have cost him, the swelling around the injury making his mouth feel thick and full. Renny shuddered, full bodied, leaning towards John, wanting to hear that voice again.

"Jackal," Renny whispered, then realized his mistake. "I'm--"

"Call me Mac."

There was the feeling of breath on his face, the smell of something metallic and smoky and antiseptic. But it was the inhuman sleekness of metal, blood-warm and wet, gliding over his lips that made Renny come right there in the street, fully clothed and cock untouched. It was definitely *not* the way fingers deftly pinched and twisted and tore at his wounds, the way blood teasingly tickled down his shin and soaked his sock, the way his lungs screamed for oxygen as he held his breath just a little longer.

And then he was released. John--Mac--flung his hands away as he wove a path up the street away from Renny, his steps overlapping yet his stride as slinking as ever. Chilly night air swept over his fever-hot skin, making Renny feel the liquid coolness across his skin, uncomfortable in his clothes. He stood for a moment, feeling it all, trying to decide if his feet could move or if he would fall again.

Then he was running, catching up with the others as they finally found the car, or a reasonable facsimile as King pointed out, and they all piled in. Mac was expressionless, silent again as he let Renny crowd into the front seat with him. Renny could almost imagine that it had all been a sudden dream, intense and real yet nothing but a hiccup of his brain, not existing in real time.

Mac's elbow dug into his side, hitting that bruise again and again. After a few wild turns, Mac lifted his right hand to his mouth. Renny could see the dark wetness of blood against his pale skin, even in the shadows of the car. Mac worried the nail, biting it between his teeth, holding it, lashing it with the tip of his pierced and swollen tongue until it was clean and jagged and wet. He moved on to the next finger.


End file.
